A Compilation of Prompts
by Nerdywife91
Summary: This is a set of prompts that I received from my tumblr lovelies. There will probably be several ships and relationships. These in no away go in any order or relate to each other. Enjoy!
1. Should I Marry Him?

This is a prompt from steffy2106 : i am allowing myself to prompt you for some Sherlolly goodness. I watched a recent Grey's Anatomy and Jackson just intervened during the wedding of the woman he loved. Could you write a Sherlolly where Sherlock actually interrupt Molly's wedding?

* * *

"Molly asked me to bring these back." John said as he walked into the flat at Baker Street holding a bag of clothes. Sherlock didn't reply. He sat in his chair frantically searching for a new case. "I'll just leave them here." He tossed them on the couch and closed the door. "Sooo, today's the day."

Sherlock NEEDED a new case and he knew Lestrade wouldn't be bringing him one today; he would be busy getting drunk at the open bar.

"Are you going?" John sighed, sinking down into his old chair.

"Nope." Sherlock replied without taking his eyes off his phone.

"But I heard her personally ask you."

"I said if I wasn't busy. I'm busy."

"You aren't doing anything!" John threw his hands in the air.

"I just found myself a new case." He smiled triumphantly. "I really must get started on it tonight." Sherlock pushed himself out of his chair and went to grab the tea Mrs. Hudson had brought to him. He took a sip and frowned. "This is cold."

"When did she bring it to you?"

"The usually time." Sherlock dumped the cup in the sink.

"You realize it's almost one." John looked over his shoulder at Sherlock who furrowed his brow at the cup. "Want to grab a bite?"

"No." Sherlock started messing with an experiment he had abandoned last night. John sighed again and got up, knowing when he was being dismissed. Before he left he went to Sherlock's room. Sherlock could hear him messing with something in his closet. He knew John was setting him out clothes to wear.

"Then I better be home to Mary." John said as he headed towards the door. "Sherlock, please be there today."

* * *

Three weeks earlier:

Sherlock sat plucking at the strings on his violin because he was too lazy to get up and grab the bow that was five feet away. He stopped when he heard heavy, rushed footfalls on the stairway. The door flung open and there stood a soaking wet Molly Hooper.

"Molly?" He sat down his violin and looked at her.

"Could I have some dry clothes or a towel?" She asked as she closed the door. He nodded once and disappeared to get the items she had asked for.

Her presence at 221B had become a normal occurrence since his return. He had asked her over to help with experiments and she would bring him what body parts she could. They both seemed to enjoy their random times together and John found Sherlock was in a much more agreeable mood after his afternoons with Miss Hooper.

But this afternoon, Molly was supposed to be elsewhere. In fact she had a dress fitting at 4 and then dinner with Tom afterwards. Sherlock had asked for her help, but she had politely declined.

"Thank you." She took the towel and dry clothes out of Sherlock's hands and excused herself to the bathroom.

Sherlock sat back down and picked up his violin, trying to figure out why Molly would be there. When she finally emerged, Sherlock had to suppress a smile that he surprised himself with.

She was drying her hair with the towel dressed in his clothes. His shirt and pants were both too big for her but she had the strings of the pants tied tight and the shirt hung slightly off of her one shoulder. Something about this caused Sherlock to keep steeling glances at her bare collar bone.

"If it's okay, I'm going to make some tea." Sherlock nodded at her once and started plucking again. Molly walked over and picked up the bow and handed it to him absentmindedly. Sherlock took it and started playing while she made tea.

She handed him a cup and sat down in John's chair, sipping on her own. She stared at a spot on the floor, not talking.

"What am I to you?" She finally asked.

"My pathologist." He responded quickly.

"Yours?" She furrowed her brow.

"A friend." He added, realizing besides John, he had never called anyone else that out loud.

"Should I marry Tom?"

"Molly?"

"I mean, I love him and genuinely care for him. But I'm not _in love_ with him. Is that fair to him?"

"Why are you asking me?" He had no clue where Molly was going and usually he did.

"Because I think you're in love with me." He stared at her, not knowing how to respond. "Should I marry Tom?" she asked again.

"I can't be what you want." He finally responded. "Yes. You should marry Tom."

She didn't say anything, just sipped on her tea. When she was finished with her tea, she took her cup to the kitchen and placed it in the already full sink. She walked back over to Sherlock and leaned down, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

She gathered her wet clothes and purse. As she was going for the door, it opened and John walked in.

"Molly?" John looked her up and down.

"John." She smiled once at him and turned to Sherlock. "Please be there, at the wedding." Then she left.

"Don't ask." Sherlock told John after Molly was out of earshot.

* * *

Present:

After John left, Sherlock abandoned the experiment again and fell down on the couch face first. He hadn't really found a case, all had been under a four and he had solved half of them by just reading the emails.

_Please be there._Molly and John's words echoed in his head. He tried to ignore it. He decided a walkthrough of his mind palace would be good, deleting the unnecessary and rearranging the import information.

But everywhere he turned, there was Molly. At the morgue in her lab coat. At home wrapped in a blank on her couch. Standing in his kitchen in his clothes. Everywhere.

"Fine!" He shouted. He stood up and went to his room throwing on the clothes John had put out for him. He checked his watch, it was already 2:40 and the wedding was at 3, he was just barely going to make it.

The cabbie he got was a complete idiot and got them lost, twice. By the time Sherlock got to the church it was already 3:10 and he had half a mind to just turn around and go home. Or going to the nearest bar and getting really drunk. He opted for staying and using the open bar to get him drunk, hoping to quiet Molly's voice, _I think you're in love with me_.

He busted through the church doors. There stood Molly at the end of the isle already. Her dress was simple, but made her look beautiful, granted he preferred her in his clothes. Molly stared at him in sock, but gave him a small smile and pointed to the back row. Sherlock then realized how he must look and hated everyone's eyes on him. He quickly sat, ignoring John and Mary's stares.

The pastor continued speaking. Sherlock wasn't paying attention to what was going on. He kept clenching and unclenching his hands.

_I think you're in love with me. _

_"_No." He whispered to himself.

_I think you're in love with me_.

"No!" He whispered more forcefully and the people in front of him shot him annoyed looks.

_I think you're in love with me...I think you're in love with me._

"No!" He said loud enough for the people two rows in front of him to hear. The women in front of him 'shh-ed' him.

_I think you're in love with me._

Sherlock made to stand up, but sat back down before anyone noticed.

_I think you're in love with me._

He stood with shaking hands and stepped into the isle.

_I think you're in love with me._

Molly noticed and turned her head towards Sherlock with a question in her eyes.

_I think you're in love with me._

_"_Molly." The entire church's eyes were on Sherlock again. He took a deep breath.

_I think you're in love with me._

"I...you asked me if you should marry Tom." He walked down the aisle toward her, never taking his eyes off hers. He half expected her cheeks to flush at the breaking news to Tom, but she looked calm as ever. "You said you thought I was in love with you and asked if you should marry Tom." He stood directly in front of her. "I have an answer for you."

"And?" She asked, seeming to have forgotten the audience they had.

"You shouldn't marry Tom." He reached out and grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. He kissed her hard as the rest of the people around him let out gasps of surprise.

"He waits till now!" He heard John say and chuckled against Molly's lips. He slowly released his hold on Molly. "I think that I'm in love with you too."

"Well that's nice." Tom said. Molly stepped back from Sherlock with the intention to try and explain, but Tom reeled back and punched Sherlock in the eye. He straightened his jacket and held out his hand to Molly. "Ring?" Molly quickly pulled it off her finger and handed it over. Tom walked quickly from the church, with his family hurrying after him.

* * *

"You could have moved." Molly said as she put two stiches in just above his cheek bone.

"What?" He smirked, knowing what she meant.

"You are much faster than him, you knew it was coming. Why didn't you move?" She took off her gloves and dumped them in the bin.

"I figured he at least deserved to get a punch in." Sherlock shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I had just stolen his bride." Molly smiled at him and nestled her head under his chin.

They were back at Baker Street. Molly was dressed in the same clothes that she had borrowed three week previous; her wedding dress in the bins outside.


	2. Who is She?

This is a prompt from an anon asking for romantic Molcroft

* * *

"Who was she?" Molly felt her face heating from the insecurity rising in her.

"Colleague." Mycroft didn't even take his eyes off of his paperwork.

"Oh." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She stared around his office, hoping to distract herself enough. It didn't work. "Do you work close with her?"

"Sometimes." He shrugged, not really listening to her. Molly nodded even though he still wasn't looking.

"She seems nice." She added, folding her hands in her lap.

"Mhm." He scribbled something in the folder.

"What is her – "

"Molly." He finally looked up at her. "She is just a woman I work with."

"I know. I know." She nodded her head up and down several times.

"Almost done." He turned his attention back to his papers. She pulled her mobile out of her pocket and sent off some replies to unanswered texts. She tapped her foot repeatedly as she leaned back in the chair, stretching her legs out on front of her.

"Soo, what's her n – "

"MOLLY." He said more forceful this time. "I have one personal attachment." She pointed to herself and he nodded. "Yes."

"I just, she is so pretty and blonde and gorgeous!" Molly stared at the back of the wooden door as if she could see the other woman through it.

"I don't see her that way." He was standing right next to her. He reached down and took her hand in his, pulling her to her feet. "I simply see a person I work with."

"Okay." She whispered as he kissed her cheek. "Are you ready yet?"

"Not really." He admitted, staring at his desk.

"Mycroft Holmes, you take me out to lunch and make me forget about that _colleague _of yours or so help me you will have a very cold bed tonight."

"Okay….okay." He held his hands up in surrender. "I will call for the car to come around."

"Thank you." She stood with her hands on her hips in triumph.

"Sometimes I think I should have just gotten a _real goldfish_." He smirked at her as he grabbed the umbrella they would undoubtedly be needing.

"Yes, but real fish don't cuddle with you."

"I do like you in my bed, Miss Hooper." He offered her his arm and she looped hers through.

"I do so like being there." She grabbed a hold of his face and planted one on the middle of his mouth. "They also wouldn't be able to do that." Mycroft felt himself blushing as Molly wiped off some of her gloss from his upper lip.


	3. The Mentalist

Can I send a sherlolly prompt where Sherlock and Molly are watching tv and they realise that there is a show very similar to Sherlocks life called The Mentalist

* * *

"SHERLOCK!" Molly's voice floated through the closed door and was muddled with her heavy, fast footfalls on the stairs. Sherlock sighed and walked over, opening the door just as Molly came to the top of the landing. "Sherlock!" She smiled and rushed past him and into the flat. She hurried over to the corner of the living room and kneeled in front of a pile of papers (and whatever else Sherlock had thrown there). Molly pushed away all the rubble and revealed Sherlock's telly.

"Oh. I forgot that was there." Sherlock nodded and went back to the kitchen. He had an experiment over a small flame and didn't want another accident. The last time Mrs. Hudson had stopped bringing him his morning tea for a week – he quite liked his morning tea.

Molly hummed her response to him and finished clearing away the papers. She turned on the telly and found what she was looking for.

"Sherlock come here!" Molly shed her outer jacket and moved to Sherlock's chair. There was a slight chill in the air outside but Sherlock had managed to heat his flat to a ridiculous temp and Molly could already feel the sweat gathering on the small of her back.

"Busy." He replied shortly, trying to take the temp of the solution he was working with.

"But I have found _you_!" She bounced happily on the edge of the seat.

"I am _bu_ – what do you mean?" He pinched his eyebrows together and looked at her. Her smile was so wide it looked like it almost hurt.

"This show!" She pointed to the telly.

"Molly, I am not in the mood to watch another one of your silly dramas." He went back to his solution, moving it off of the flame and turning the heat off.

"This is not a _silly drama_!" She flared her nostrils in anger. "And besides, I noticed that you were enjoying the last – "

"I told you if you brought that up I would never watch the telly with you again." His face was flushed – something only Molly had become accustomed to. She giggled and held up her hands in surrender.

"Okay. Okay." She giggled again. "But really, you have to come see this." He looked at her and back at his experiment. It really was not turning out right and he needed to start again. He was sure he had overheated it with Molly's interruption taking his attention. He turned on the water and dumped the solution in the sink – it should be fine. He took off his goggles and made his way into the living room.

"That is supposed to be _my _chair." He gave her a look as he settled down into John's old chair.

"Shh!" She hushed him and turned up the volume.

"I still don't know what you mean by you found _me_." He whispered to her.

"Jane, he is you!" Molly's eyes never left the scene. "Just watch."

Sherlock crossed his arms and slumped back in the much less comfortable chair and heaved a grumpy sigh. He didn't move for the next 45 minutes. As soon as the show was over, Molly reached over and turned off the telly.

"See!?" Molly's big brown eyes shined proudly. Sherlock wore an unamused expression and pushed himself out of the chair.

"No. I don't." He turned back to the kitchen, already planning his next experiment.

"Sherlock!" Molly chastised. "Patrick Jane is you!" She got up and followed him into the kitchen. "Granted, I think he has better people skills that you do, but other than that."

"Better people skills? I can read a person better than he can!" Sherlock was insulted. Molly rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist before he could grab any of the equipment he needed. He didn't hesitate to wrap his around her.

"This is why Patrick has better people skills than you do." He opened his mouth to say something but she slid her hand over his mouth, shutting him up. "He understands human nature better than you do." Sherlock raised his eye brows in agreement. "But other than that, you two are the same; handsome consulting detectives who bug the police and read people as if you can actually read their minds." Molly dropped her hand away from his mouth and settled it back around his waist.

"You think he's handsome?" Sherlock asked with a perplexed look on his face.

"That's what you took away from all that?" She giggled and stretched up placing a small kiss on his cheek.


	4. Now or Never

Prompt! Married!Molly wants to have a baby. And Sherlock doesn't think he is ready to have children. However what he doesn't know is that Molly's clock is ticking relatively fast. And it's either now or never.

* * *

Sherlock stared at his wife with a pained expression on his face. Molly sat curled up on the end of the couch looking through a magazine. But not just any magazine, a magazine filled with children's clothes. He wasn't sure how it ended up in their mail, but all he knew was that he wished it hadn't.

"Molly?" Sherlock asked, picking up her book from the kitchen table.

"Mhm?" She didn't look up. He thrust the book in her face, in between her eyes and the magazine. "Why is my book in my face?" She looked up, irritated at him.

"You haven't finished it." He let the book go and it dropped down in her lap, crinkling the magazine. He shrugged as he stared down at Molly. He walked over and picked up a nicotine patch from the ledge above the fire place and slapped it on his forearm.

"No. I haven't." Molly picked up her book and dropped it to the floor with a loud thump. Sherlock looked over his shoulder at the book on the floor. He picked up another patch and smoothed it on his arm. He flexed his hand and waited for the patches to take effect, breathing in deeply. "Two patches?" Molly asked, bored.

"Yes. Two patches." He flexed his hand again and sat down in his chair. Molly rolled her eyes and dropped the magazine down on top of the book. She got up and walked over, staring down at him. "Yes?" He looked up at her as he rubbed the second patch. She leaned down and moved his arms out of the way and settled down into his lap.

"The magazine bothers you."

"No."

"It wasn't a question." She nuzzled her nose against his cheek. He slid his gaze sideways, trying to look at her. "It bothers you."

"Yes." He flexed his hand again. Molly sat with her head cradled in the hollow of his neck. Neither of them said anything for a while.

"Do kids scare you?" She finally asked.

"No." He answered with a smile. "Responsibility. Responsibility scares me."

"Oh." Molly lifted her head, meeting his gaze.

"Kids mean responsibility. I don't like responsibility. I like to run off when a case hits, no matter the time, day or night. And I come home when it suits me."

"Or when I yell at you." Molly added.

"Yes. That too." He gave her a half smile.

"So…."

"You want to know if I want kids." Molly nodded silently. "I do not object to procreating with you." He smirked, making her smile brightly. "Just…not now."

"Okay." She kissed him hard and went back over to the couch and picked up her book, pushing the magazine to the side.

* * *

"Mrs. Holmes." Molly's head snapped up at her name. "I have your test results." Her doctor closed the door softly and sat down.

"What's wrong?" Molly knew when a doctor was psyching themselves up to deliver bad news.

"Your test results, well, Mrs. Holmes."

"Amelia." Molly interrupted her. "We have known each other for years, stop with the pleasantries." Amelia dropped Molly's file on the counter and sighed.

"Molly, if you want kids you need to try now."

* * *

"MOLLY!" Sherlock exploded as soon as she had one foot in the door.

"Hi." She smiled weakly. Sherlock grabbed her shoulders and kissed her on the mouth.

"Lestrade just texted, new case, two bodies!" He flung his coat on dramatically.

"Oh, well – "

"I'll be home late tonight, probably early morning." He kissed her again and fled down the stairs. "Love you!" He called as an afterthought.

* * *

Molly heard the door close and Sherlock's footsteps in the living room. She looked over at the clock on her night stand. It was 3am. The door to their bedroom squeaked open.

"Hi." Molly rolled over and looked at her husband. His hair was crazy and a satisfied smile sat on his lips.

"Solved." He whispered as he slipped out of his clothes. He climbed under the covers and pulled Molly to him, settling her back against his front, and intertwined his frozen feet with her toasty ones. He stretched his arm out that was under Molly's head and laid it on Molly's pillow. His fingertips brushed against wet fabric. Molly had been crying. He turned her over in his arms and brushed the tears away from her face. "What's wrong?" He asked softly.

Molly didn't say anything, trying to figure out the words she wanted to use.

"You had your doctor's appointment today." His body tensed up. "What's wrong? Is it terminal? We will get whatever doctor you need!" His voice was raising and Molly had never seen him so worked up. "I should have been paying more attention when you came home. I"

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" He stopped babbling and looked at her. "I'm fine. I'm healthy."

"Oh. Good." His body relaxed and he kissed her on the head. "What's wrong?" He asked again. Molly felt awful putting this on him. It had only been a few weeks before he was telling her he wasn't ready for kids.

"My test results weren't great." She swallowed hard. "If I am going to have kids we have to have them now." She couldn't look him in the eyes. They laid in silence as Sherlock processed the information. It was a good five minutes before he said anything.

"Okay."

"Okay?" She was surprised and wasn't sure if he meant it.

"Yes. Okay." He said again. Molly couldn't believe her husband.

"But only two weeks ago you were saying you weren't ready for kids."

"Well, your body is telling me to stop being selfish." He leaned down and kissed her neck. "So, shall we try procreating then, my dear Molly?"

"Mhm, yes please." She eyed him hungrily.


	5. You Love Her

From an anon: A Sherlolly Promt: Sherlock thinking he does not like Molly then discovering after some time that he can't be without her?

* * *

Sherlock had just received a text from Lestrade begging him to come down to the morgue to examine a new body.

"JOHN! MARY! SPAWN!" Sherlock shouted as he dashed about in John and Mary's kitchen.

"You have to stop calling her spawn!" Mary yelled at him from her seat on the couch.

"What is it?" John chocked down a chuckle, getting up to see what Sherlock was on about this time.

"Lestrade has something for us at the morgue!" Sherlock's eyes were big with excitement.

"I'm sure Molly is going to be _delighted_ to see us." John grabbed his jacket and put it on. Sherlock stopped moving and stared at him, he was finally getting the hang of John's sarcasm.

"What do you mean by that?" Sherlock looked cross.

"I just mean that last time you and Molly talked you all but told her to stop loving you." John shrugged his shoulders. "She would be better off, but still, you didn't need to go about it the way you did."

"You were the one who told me to be honest." Sherlock furrowed his brow.

"Yes, I meant be honest with yourself you clot. You lov – " John stopped talking and just shook his head. "Come on, let's go." John walked back to Mary and kissed her. "I'll be home later, love you."

"Love you too." She patted his cheek. "Don't kill my husband." She pointed to Sherlock.

"Love you too spawn." John kissed his daughter's head as she slept in Mary's arm.

"Never mind on that last order Sherlock."

* * *

"You were going to say something else." Sherlock prompted as they rode in the cab.

"What?" John hadn't been paying attention.

"You were going to say something else to me, before we left. So, say it." Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You love her."

"Sentiment is a" Sherlock started.

"Crapshoot found in the losing person or some other shit." John cut him off, giving him an exasperated look. "You love her and you can't see it because you have pushed all of your emotions down in that dark soul of yours and decided that they are some sort of drawback in life. Well, they aren't."

Sherlock stared at John, mouth gaping wide. He felt like John had single handedly broken his mind; sensory overload in some sense. Sherlock tried to process everything that John had said but found himself being shoved out of the back of the cab by John. His brain didn't catch up with the words John was saying until they were almost to the morgue.

"You look like shit!" John grabbed hold of his arm, stopping him from running into a nurse. "Pull yourself together!"

Sherlock didn't respond, just stared at him with a blank expression on his face.

"I said!" John reached out his arm and slapped Sherlock hard across the face. "Pull yourself together!" Sherlock took a step back and shook his head, the left side of his face already turning red. He took a deep breath, ruffled his hair, and straightened his coat.

"Right." He nodded his thanks to John and pushed the door to the morgue open. He walked in and his eyes found Molly right away. She was smiling brightly and laughing at something. How could a woman who was a pathologist, who did autopsies on dead bodies for a living, always be in a good mood?

"…then I said to him – " Lestrade followed Molly's new line of sight over to Sherlock. "Finally! Where the hell have you two been?"

"Traffic." John grumbled.

"I need you to look over the body and then I have a man back at the yard that I need you to talk to. I can't hold the man for much longer, so I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"It really seems like it." Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

"What?" John asked, not believing what he had just barely heard come out of Sherlock's mouth.

"Nothing." He turned to Molly. She still wore a small smile, though forced. He could tell she was uncomfortable seeing him, he had been…._mean_ (as John had said) to her after all. "Body?" He asked, trying to keep his tone even. She nodded once and folded back the sheet.

Sherlock got to work at once, doing his best to block out the other voices. It took him longer than usually to examine the body, while half of his brain was committed to the task at hand, the other half was wrestling with John's words.

"So, Molly, what – "

"Scotland Yard." Sherlock snapped at Lestrade, who stopped talking to Molly and looked at him. "Take John with you. I'll be right behind you."

"Sherlock…" John stopped when he saw the intense look Sherlock was giving him. "Right. Come on Greg. Bye Molly, and thank you."

"Yea, thank you." Lestrade gave her a half smile and retreated from the morgue with John.

Molly busied herself with some paperwork as Sherlock gave the body another once over.

"Molly." He turned to face her.

"Yes?" She asked quietly.

"John thinks I burry my emotions." He blurted.

"Oh." Was all she said.

"I'm sorry. I am not sure why I said that." What was wrong with him?

"Did you just say, 'sorry'?" She looked at him in amazement.

"I did." He grasped his hands behind his back.

"Although, that wasn't really something that needed an apology." She smirked and walked over to the body, covering it back up with the sheet. She pushed the cart back to its spot and closed it up. She thought Sherlock would have made his exist by then, but he was still standing there. "Is there something I can help you with?" She asked almost exasperated.

"Am I bugging you?" He titled his head at her.

"No, yes…kind of." She admitted.

"Honesty." He watched as her cheeks flushed.

"Yes." She grabbed the paperwork and started to walk away from him.

"Do you love me?" Sherlock couldn't stop himself; the words were out of his mouth before his brain would stop him. Molly stopped in her tracks and turned back to him. "I don't know why I asked you that!"

"Yes. And I don't know why." She answered him anyways.

"John said you did and I figured as much."

"Then why are you asking?" She walked back over to him and folded her arms across her chest. "If you already knew?"

He looked down at her and abandoned all of his inhibitions; he pulled her face to his and he kissed her. Molly didn't hold herself back; she dropped the paperwork, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his. Sherlock wrapped his free arm around her waist securing her in place.

He pulled back and stared at her. He opened his mouth to say something, but Molly kissed him again.

"After you help Scotland Yard, come over." Molly smiled brightly at him, not forced at all. Sherlock nodded. He released his hold on Molly and disappeared from the morgue, only realizing once he was outside and the rain was hitting his face that he was smiling too.


End file.
